


Fuck You, Buddy

by dawngloaming



Category: Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Vigilante Joker (DCU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 19:31:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20051365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawngloaming/pseuds/dawngloaming
Summary: John and Bruce...gettin loose....





	Fuck You, Buddy

**Author's Note:**

> There aren't enough strsight up dirty fics with John and Bruce...classic batjokes is full of such fics, but juce seems to bring out a lot of tenderness in the fandom. That's fun, but John is no innocent angel that we have to protect. Anyway, first nsfw fic ever...oof...and it isn't even beta'd...oops.

John lay on his bed, the guest bed closest to Bruce’s room in Wayne Manor, eyes glazed, his mind fogged in cottony bliss. He was idly playing with the little doll replica of his batty partner. Well, partner in crime, at least! Or should he say partner in justice? Either way, surely Bruce and John weren’t PARTNERS partners...yet? Were they? 

Whatever, he’d have to talk to the brunette man about THAT bag of cats whenever he might wake up from his stupor. John sure as hell wouldn’t be the one to wake him, because for Christ’s SAKE the poor poor (but filthy rich) man never slept. But now? He was definitely knocked out from all that crime fighting. The two had performed a successful drug bust against some bigshots John didn’t remember. It was just more of the same after all...douchebags in suits. 

But maybe Bruce was extra tired because of what ELSE had transpired the night before...er, a few hours ago, really. John gave an amused snort at the idea. You see, they'd had sex. They'd FUCKED, if he were honest. The word more accurately captured the feeling of what had gone down. 

This first time (yes, the fist time ever) Bruce and John had sex, it was a brief blur of sweat and heat and muffled cries, over in a matter of minutes. That's not to say it was anticlimactic, though. Oh, John thought, there certainly was a climax. He choked back a laugh at his own wit. 

The whole thing had happened in a somewhat scandalous way. One that would’ve caused both the paparazzi (with their incessant peddling of #batjokes rumors) AND the burgeoning Batman and Joker fandom (with its many sordid forums) to collectively have an aneurysm. It had happened in an alleyway...on the job. 

John Doe had lost his virginity to THE Bruce Wayne (he could scarcely believe it, the thought alone made his head glitch with static)... in an alleyway...on the job. Of course, he never told Bruce it was his first time. If he had known, he'd have cut everything short. He'd have gotten all considerate and insisted they take it slow. Somewhere dry. And not quite so public (semi-public...but still). 

But the bat probably thought John was plenty experienced, in his own right, given his past with Harley. Aaaand given the constant innuendos he'd pepper into conversations with the most DEFINITELY experienced “billionaire playboy.” Plus, the two of them were how old?! They were grown, for sure. And the norm for grown men was to have had at least a couple drunken fumbles in the dark, by now. 

But norms didn't exactly apply to an amnesiac who had spent an eternity locked away in a princess tower, guarded by dragons referred to more commonly as orderlies. And for all the flirtatious remarks that he spewed at his favorite guy in the world...John had only been trying to goad Bruce into seeing him as more than just an overeager puppy. As more than someone to fondly raise an eyebrow at, whenever he stumbled into yet another awkward scenario. 

Regardless of his upended expectations, John had to admit (with some smug pride) that the flirting had paid off. Except, it was still in a less glamorous way than he would have ever imagined. He had always pictured it happening on Bruce’s enormous california king sized bed, or at the very least in that gaudy shower with the multiple variations of water pressure. It would have been somewhere that made sense for the ritzy Wayne to have picked. Somewhere he could pamper the paler man beneath him. 

This wasn't a baseless assumption, since the guy was certainly one to do such things for his cheerful pal. He was always buying John’s frappes and other sugar-laden treats, all with the flick of a flashy black card. It was always paid for before John could even squeak out an embarrassed “buddy!” or his trademark nervous giggle.

But well...all that "chivalry" was what came to mind when John thought about BRUCE, the man with the soft blue eyes, the shy smile...his BUDDY. His best friend for LIFE. The last night, on the other hand, was with Gotham' s dark knight...the BATMAN. All hard kevlar, hard gritty voice, and even harder dick. 

Oh sure, John had fantasized about fucking the vigilante numerous times. Before he even met him and discovered the man behind the myth, in fact. The thought of the big bad bat always brought him over the edge just THAT much faster than fantasies about the vigilante’s alter ego...his “real” and oh so kind persona, the heir to the Wayne family throne. 

But John wouldn't EVER dare to confess these dirtiest thoughts of his. The closest he had gotten (and possibly ever would get) was telling Bruce that he REALLY liked that gruff batman voice, and the way he kicked around the “evildoers” like mere pebbles on a playground. Heh, he could only imagine the pained blushing that would elicit. Bruce would never admit it on account of all those boring morals of his, but it certainly brought blood to more than his cheeks to hear John say such unsettling things. John was sure of this, given the way Bruce’s pupils would dilate at even the slightest hints of the dark side beyond all his innocent smiles, which sometimes cracked wider into something sharp.

Anyway, he had thought his first time would surely be something with the slightest bit of romance...not the animalistic fuck that actually ocurred. I mean goddamn! Bruce WAS an animal...he was a BAT, he thought, biting his lip in mirth. But filthy or not, it had been heaven. Or as close to it as one could ever get in a dank alleyway, all cramped and wet...exceedingly wet, given the dribbling rain that drowned out the soft moans of John being pinned against the wall, makeup running into the bricks as it trailed down his face in a mess of red white and black. 

It was a disgusting ecstasy. It was John’s most base fantasy, and surely Bruce’s as well, given the way he whimpered “Joker” in stuttering breaths against that rapidly flushing neck. And it was all nothing more than 5 minutes. Maybe time is relative when you're being pounded into another dimension, he mused, toothy smile spreading across his face.

It was morning now, but to be honest, this was barely the case. It was dark out, and everything. Even the birds were still asleep. Brucie-boy wasn’t due to wake up until like...a good few hours later, when the sun would come up and dance through the window. Once the sun was up, he was too. That's how it had been ever since he'd decided to become the city's own hero. The workaholic would never sleep longer, dammit. John scoffed at this, mumbling, ”late to bed, early to rise, makes a batsy strong, moody, and wise"...a remix the classic nursery rhyme. 

A sudden, yearning moan of “JOHN” jolted him out of his imagination with a swift kick to the gut. He was pretty sure they were just butterflies. The feeling swarmed in his stomach, now. That was Bruce’s voice he heard, barely muffled by the thick wall between their rooms. 

He nimbly rolled off the bed, quiet as a cat, and began padding his way to the hallway with a thundering chest. If Bruce’s needy, gravely shout hadn’t already woken poor old Alfred, the green haired man was sure his loud heartbeat would do the trick. He’d made up his mind to check if his buddy was having a nightmare or something. That just...that had to be it. John gulped the doubt down his dry throat, feeling the butterflies as they resumed their fluttering in his core.

Creaking open the door, he found Bruce with the covers thrown off. An enormous and soft hand wrapped around the base of that thick cock, purple with need in the moonlight. One trembling arm was knocked over his eyes, so he didn’t see John’s wide acid greens go black with shock and desire. 

He did, however, freeze mid-pump at the strangled sound that escaped John’s throat. It was too late, but the caught man clasped those ghostly white hands over his mouth in shame.  
There came his name again, in that gravely tone...but this time it came out like “J-John??” as he peaked out into the dark room. Fuck, Bruce swore inwardly...he forgot that given John’s insomnia, of COURSE he’d be awake at this hour...awake to witness the Bruce Wayne porno of Gotham’s dreams. John's dream included, duh. 

Oh how John yearned, no, NEEDED to hear his name on those lips again. Like, RIGHT the hell now. His own dick sprang to life, to pumping blood, to aching. The lily white flesh was surely a deep rose now, as darker wants arose from his depths. 

Last time he’d seen Bruce, he was being screwed into dirty wet brick as Joker. Batman had pulled quite the stunt there, getting John’s boisterous, rather dominant alter ego to submit like that. He submitted so completely that even with a coat covered in the blood he’d ripped from some hapless man with a jokerang, the gore couldn't hide that he was reduced to a pleading bitch, whining with his tongue lolling out of his open mouth, eyes rolling back as white as his face paint. He’d always imagined his Joker half would be all sharp grins and taunts, perhaps a power bottom to Batman’s aggressive top.

Hmph, he’d show Batman...no, Bruce. He’d SHOW him not to take Joker so lightly...not to take JOHN so lightly. Sweet little John, the wide-eyed, earnest smiled, lily white twink. There’d be none of that now, he resolved with a barely audible growling purr. Now, Bruce would be his...dreamy eyes mcfuckface would learn to see John Doe for the stepping razor he was. 

Bruce, now at full attention, stared at the thin figure emerging from the shadows. He was in awe. The moonlight through the lace curtains illuminated half of him, and the rest was engulfed in the black he saw in the newly hooded eyes. 

The thick disguise-makeup was almost all off, washed away in the rain, but for a stubborn ring of smudged eyeshadow around each eye. His lips were still vaguely stained with the long-lasting waterproof red he wore. It was bleeding around the edges of that thin mouth, which curved in a dangerous smirk. His short green wave were tumbling over his face, finally loosed from all that hair gel. 

He stood shirtless and smooth before the bigger man, glowing like a pearl, all sharp clavicle and jutting rib cage. His hip bones poked out over mauve, tenting boxers that made Bruce squirm ever so slightly on the sheets. Squirm as he might, Joker...no, John (the lines blurred like traces of makeup) quietly put out a thin hand and placed it on the mattress, only an inch from Bruce’s body. Slowly, he crawled his way onto the bed with a languid grace that rivaled even Selina Kyle. Eat your heart out, “Cats”, John thought. He laughed in a little puffing exhale, and Bruce drew in a breath at the sudden proximity. John was now eye to eye with the man of his dreams, cupping that square chin in a gentle but firm grasp. This would be fun.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a LESBIAN, go easy on me. Idk what I'm talking about, I just like rough messy stuff :')
> 
> Also I know that it's a really crass "first time" for poor John, but not everyone values the construct of virginity. I wrote John as such a person.
> 
> I MIGHT continue this.


End file.
